Birthday Traditions
by Helen w
Summary: ...because some traditions are worth keeping.' A look at Abbys brithdays through the years.(Abby-centric Carby fuzz)


**Birthday Traditions**

**Summary** - . . . because some traditions are worth keeping. (Abby-centric Carby fuzz).

**Author's Note** - So season 10 and 11 never happened, and most of the angst in season 9 didn't either. The songs will be credited at the end. I realise the date of Abby's birthday has been widely debated, as has her age. I don't claim that the age/birthday I'm using here is correct.

**Rating** - PG

**Disclaimer** - I don't own ER or any of the characters.

**10th January 1980**

I hear a knock on my bedroom door, groaning I reach round and turn my radio up. The angry lyrics of the Sex Pistols reverberate off the walls.

"Abby . . . Abby, can I come in?" a voice calls from outside the door.

I roll my eyes, what's the point in answering , she'll just do it . . . Sure enough I turn around and see the door open.

Maggie rushes in "Happy birthday sweetie!", she says enthusiastically as she envelops me in a hug.

I try not to roll my eyes, 15 years of living with her has made me wary of outbursts of emotion, even if they occur when I know she's on her medication. "Thanks mom." She hands me a artfully wrapped package and sits her down on my bed. Out of the corner of my eye I can see her survey the wreck that is my room. I smile as I rip open the paper to find a Sex Pistols t-shirt. I hastily pull it over my school shirt.

Maggie looks at my half disapprovingly, "we don't want you to be sent home on your birthday."

I shrug nonchalantly, "rules are made to be broken."

**10th January 2002**

I put my cd of choice in the stereo, my face remains emotionless as the melancholy lyrics fill the room.

_If shame had a face I think it kinda look like mine_

_If it had a home it would be my eyes_

Joyce hands me another beer, I smile gratefully and take a drink.

"I thought birthdays were meant to be about happy music?"

I look at Joyce bemusedly, she seems a bit drunk. I wonder if this is her first 6 pack of the day. "I think this best reflects my mood at the moment, happy music would only make me feel worse."

"there is some kind of twisted logic to that". Joyce's eyes roam round my living room, searching, as if something is missing. "You have no birthday cards, none from your friends?"

I shake my head, "nobody remembered, except my mom" I smile ruefully, the irony is not lost on me.

Joyce shakes her head, "that sucks".

I take a long swig of beer. "Yeah, it does" I whisper.

**10th January 2003**

I turn the volume up to max.

"Letting go of all I've held onto, I'm hanging by a . . . ." I sing along at the top of my voice. I love this song, definitely goes down as a classic in my book; I don't care what John says.

I see the bathroom door open, and through a cloud of steam I see a head appearing, "isn't it a bit loud?"

"What?" I shout.

"I said, isn't it a bit . . . ." he trails of as he sees me laughing.

I pout childishly, "but it's my birthday. . ." I pause for effect . . . "And anyway, it's a tradition"

He looks at me quizzically.

"Every year, on my birthday. I choose a song that I feel has the reflected the previous year, put it on, and sing along at the top of my voice." I explain, as if it should have been obvious.

Carter smiles and rolls his eyes. "I s'pose I can be thankful it's not the Pixies."

I smile wickedly at him, as I head towards the cd collection, but he gets there first. As I try to peek over his shoulder to see what he is doing, he playfully pushes me away. Still unwilling to give up I lean all my weight against him, trying to displace him, but I'm to late as Hanging by a Moment abruptly stops and it is replaced by an alto's gravelly voice:

"_it's not the pale moon that excites me, that thrill's and delights me . . ."_

Smiling that sexy smile of his he takes my hand and pulls me towards him, so our faces are mere millimetres apart, and I can feel his heavy breathing on my cheek.

I turn my face directly towards his, "hi . . ." I say, my voice still husky from my previous vocal exertions.

"Hi", he replies, his face nearing mine. Our lips meet in a slow sensuous kiss. "Happy Birthday."

"hhhhmmmmm", I don't bother to reply, as I lean in for another kiss

He pulls his lips away from mine, "so a birthday tradition, huh?"

I smile and nod.

A mischievous glint appears in his eyes, "How about creating some traditions of our own . . . .?"

**10th January 2005 **

I smile as I hear the contralto's voice, signalling the beginning of what has to my song of the year. I pick up the remote on the floor in front of me, and turn the volume up the max.

As the beating bass line of the piano fills the room, I silently thank John for buying the slightly more expensive system, with louder volume.

Sighing happily I close my eyes and lose myself in the music, so much so that I don't realise he's in the room. That is until I feel his hand cup my face, at his touch I open my eyes and smile as I see John sitting in front of me, mimicking my posture: sitting legs crossed, with the same happy smile lighting up his face.

His smile breaks into an ear-to-ear grin, as he registers the lyrics:

"_I can't explain thought I'd never entertain it, I'm picturing a ring on my finger"_

"So this is your song of the year?"

I smile and nod, putting my finger over his lips. He nods in understanding, and I watch him, captivated by the expression on his face as he listens to the lyrics and registers the emotions involved in this choice. He puts his hands over mine and I can feel the metal of his wedding band against my skin.

As the song finishes, I use the remote to flick the cd back a couple of tracks. I pull John up to his feet and hook my arms around his neck.

"So . . . good year?", he asks.

I smile, "best year."

**26th June 2022**

"Abby".

I roll my eyes and step in the study, and see John with his head in his hands. I smile as I hear the loud beats from the next room, I simply smirk at him, I knew this was coming when I woke up this morning.

"Why did you have to introduce our son to your old record collection?" He says with exasperation.

I give him my best 'who me?' look. Not surprisingly, he isn't taken in.

"Won't he wake up Ellie?" John tries to argue.

I shake my head, "she's downstairs in the play pen. Anyway she likes the beats" I pick up John's copy of 'classic FM' that's lying on the shelf. "You have no appreciation for decent music", I mock-scold him.

He shakes his head and continues organising the medical journals he was leafing through.

Not content to let this go, I walk up to him and sit on the desk beside where he's working. "And anyway, it's his birthday, remember the house rules?"

He looks up at me, "on your birthday you can play any song that reflects your previous year." he repeats, as if from a mantra.

I make an 'and' motion with my hand.

He rolls his eyes, "at full blast". Shaking his head he turns himself back to the article he was reading. ". . . I suppose I can be thankful it's not the Pixies." I hear him mutter.

I smile and he looks up as if he can hear the cogs turning in my brain. I head for the door, and approach Matt's room "Matt there's some other music I think you might like."

Song credits:

**Lifehouse** - _Sick Cycle Carousel _from_ No Name Face_

**Lifehouse** - _Hanging by a Moment _from_ No Name Face_

**Norah Jones** - _The Nearness of You _from_ Come Away With Me_

**Dana Glover** - _Testimony _from_ Testimony_

Other:

Good year/Best year adapted from **Buffy the Vampire Slayer**.


End file.
